Abuse Poem

A boy who grows up with an alcoholic father makes a promise to himself that he will never do the same to his own children.

Featured Shared Story

No Stories yet, You can be the first!

Share your story! (0)

The Man I Call Dad


Published: February 2006

Sometimes I wish I had a chance to play ball with the man I came to call dad
The bottle of vodka stares him right in the face
The bottle he's come to adore
I know his time is limited because of his habit
They blame it on childhood beatings to me its all denial
Falling over on the ground there he lays with a look on his face
Realizing this may be his bed
Now I'm sixteen, and ill always say my children will never see that face
It would kill me to be like him
I'm going to make something of my self
And teach my son how to play ball myself
These extreme states of drunkenness they'll never see
Because they'll never be where I used to be
A nice home they'll be with a good dad to tuck them in at night
A loving compassion will over come the room
When they close their eyes they'll know they are loved that night
The tears I've cried will never be in there future
Because that's just pure torture
No heavy woes for my future because I'll never grow up to be the man I called dad

  • Stories 0
  • Shares 15
  • Favorited 0
  • Votes 45
  • Rating 4.20

Back to Top